Acantha, Maga
by Mae Ari
Summary: The Wizarding World pivots to a frightening turn as they await You-Know-Who's next moves. How will they react? When infamous disappearences and trauma appear again, Hogwarts must face their fears. Post OotP fic.


**A/N: **This is a story based on Ravenclaws from Ginny Weasley's year. It has minor shipping, which isn't much. Slight (very slight) R/Hr will be shown in the future.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione, Harry, Ron, or any of the Hogwarts characters except for the ones I have created. They all belong to JK Rowling.

**Chapter One - Dementors, Failing, and Potion Fumes**  
  
Most people at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardy find the homework loads taxing, if not incredibly cruel, but it was a rarity that any failed. If students had any difficulty in their classes, it was very likely they would get mountains of homework instead. Professor Flitwick had the habit of assigning students this, despite the fact that Acantha thought it was impossible for her to get her Charms right. When he called for her to stay after class, her heart filled with cold dread. Mentally, she visualized herself drowning in another pile of parchment and books.  
  
Instead of Professor Flitwick holding out an extensive list of books and essays on spell theory, he was empty handed with an odd expression on his face.  
  
"Miss Adlem, I know you have been doing your homework and your essays are very good but," he hesitated for a moment, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to fail you."  
  
"What?" said Acantha. She looked down at Professor Flitwick, who was rather small, in a mixture of disbelief and fear. Her heart pounded as she swallowed. "Did - did you say I failed?"  
  
"Miss Adlem," squeaked Professor Flitwick, "I'm very sorry about this. Your grades in this class are mostly based on wandwork and it has been in failing range for several years. I'm sorry." He really did look apologetic but Acantha could not take the sympathy.  
  
"I - I can't fail!" spluttered Acantha. "O.W.L.s are this year! But I - what if - I -" Her brain instantly flashed back to a memory.  
  
_"Acantha, I want you to promise me that you will work hard in your studies," said Mrs. Adlem.  
  
"I will," said Acantha. She heard this speech so many times that it bored her.  
  
"Because you know failure is unacceptable to us," said Mrs. Adlem. "We want you to have a good future, and I agree with your father that you should do well academically. Just like we did."  
  
"But you didn't go to Hogwarts," Acantha reminded her.  
  
"Yes, but I went to Durmstrange, which has homework and studies too. Even if you find it hard, that should be no reason to fail. Failure is the worst thing that can happen to you. You would be jobless and sitting on the corner of Knockturn Alley, getting into nasty business. We want you to grow up to your full potential, so promise me you will study hard and get good grades. All right?"  
  
"All right," agreed Acantha half-heartedly.  
_  
"I have talked to the Headmaster and he wishes to meet you next week on Friday. I'm sure he will work things out," said Professor Flitwick. He went to his rather short desk and pulled out a box of Sugar Quills, placing them in her hands.  
  
"I..." said Acantha but hesitated. She looked down at the box of colorful quills and managed a polite, "Thank you."  
  
When she was excused, she stalked off. Acantha felt the guilt and shame burn inside her stomach like acid.  
  
_I promised her._  
  
"I'm really a Squib, aren't I?" she muttered to herself with disgust. "I'm a useless Muggle!"  
  
She reached a tall statue of a wizened wizard and shouted, "Bowdlerize!"  
  
"Careful, Adlem!" a person from behind her exclaimed. "Others will hear you!"  
  
"Shut up, Schlatter," snapped Acantha. "The halls are empty, they can't hear us." Her voice cracked as she spoke, but she ignored it.  
  
_Better to look angry than a crybaby._  
  
The statue slowly moved away and revealed a set of ladders to climb up to the bronze door. They climbed the ladder and reached the spiraling staircases that lead to the Ravenclaw Tower. When they arrived at the Ravenclaw Common Room, Nicholas Schlatter passed her to visit his friends by a table, and glanced at her irritably. She stormed up the stairs and yanked open the door to the Fifth Year Girls' dormitory.  
  
Only Luna "Loony" Lovegood was there, putting on long, dangling mushroom earrings and humming to herself merrily.  
  
"Hello," said Luna absently. "I heard you stomping."  
  
"Shut up Loony."  
  
Luna did not look fazed by her nickname.  
  
"Did you know those Sugar Quills contain bits of cockroach shells? That's how the spine is crunchy," said Luna.  
  
Acantha gazed down at her Sugar Quills. Professor Flitwick usually awarded students with treats when they exceeded themselves, not out of pity. The longer she stared at them, the more it reminded her that she was a failure.  
  
_I'll never get a decent job..._  
  
Suddenly an image of herself becoming the new Hogwarts caretaker came to mind.  
  
_Yeah, I'll be another senile Squib._  
  
Acantha was always terrible at wandwork and she doubted she had ever correctly cast a spell. Only a few sparks would appear on the tip of her wand at the most. However, Acantha had tried to reassure herself the past years by saying Squibs only came from Pureblood families.  
  
_But not all of them._  
  
"I'm a stupid, useless Squib," she muttered to herself.  
  
Once she heard Luna walk out of their dormitory, she peeked from her hangings to glance at the clock. Everyone was still at the Great Hall eating supper.  
  
Suddenly she felt very tired and hungry. Sighing, Acantha turned on her stomach, wondering what other classes she would fail. Surely things could not get any worse?

* * *

**DEMENTORS GONE AWRY **

_After the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, officially released the Dementors of Azkaban, he confirmed to the press that the Dementors were "natural allies of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named".  
  
Perhaps because of this, it was reported in the small village of Roseletten that Dementors managed to freely cause pandemonium among local residents.  
  
"It was horrible - beyond grief," said Scingy Millins, with a repressed shudder. Many villagers among him agreed strongly.  
  
Dementors are known for sucking happiness and forcing whoever is near to relive their worst memories. They were recently released from Azkaban by the order of the Minstry.  
  
"The Ministry has been clearly trying to undo the damage," said Fudge wearily to reporters. "We are fixing the issue right away."  
  
He refused to say any more.  
  
A total of seven Dementors were rampaging when Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was seen rounding them up.  
  
Miranda MacAbbey, a mother of three children and wife of Bracks MacAbbey, was the first innocent life to be issued a Dementors' Kiss. (Look at page 12 on DEMENTOR KISS for more information.) Bracks MacAbbey had been working at the Ministry then and her three children, ages 6, 7, and 11 were not harmed. Her youngest were playing with a neighbor, the Applelets, and her oldest had been admitted to Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardy this year. (continued on BACK PAGE.)  
  
_Acantha stared at the picture underneath the bold black heading, revolted at the images of Dementors gliding around Roseletten. She had a subscription to the Daily Prophet and read it thoroughly every day. Fiona MacAbbey was sorted into Hufflepuff this year. She looked up at the Hufflepuff table and saw to her horror, Fiona sobbing desperately as she was held by her friend. The other Hufflepuffs looked devastated and frightened as well. Acantha felt nauseated, wondering how such vile creatures could exist. The sight of Fiona MacAbbey was enough to make anyone feel horrid.  
  
However, fear was not the only emotion running through the tables. They whispered about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and what he might do to defeat You-Know-Who. There were rumors, mentioning Potter and Dementors...  
  
"He tackled a hundred by himself at the end of third year!" whispered an eager Gryffindor.  
  
"Don't be stupid, he couldn't have done that."  
  
"Harry Potter can do a Patronus. I've seen him do it," stated Michael Corner to Edith.  
  
"A hundred Dementors? Why don't they use Potter then? We could due with driving the Dementors away..." trailed off Woody Woodburn.  
  
"He's sixteen! Dumbledore wouldn't do that to a student," Edith said, shivering.  
  
Like many others, Acantha believed that the famous Boy Who Lived had been an attention-seeking prat in the previous year. However, Ernie Macmillan proudly stated that he believed Dumbledore and Harry Potter and to most of the Ravenclaws' surprise, he was right. He boasted about it after the headlines on the Prophet rang that You-Know-Who was back at the end of fourth year. Thankfully, Professor Snape was passing and shot a look to silence him.  
  
Unable to stay and listen to Fiona's sobbing (it could be heard rather loudly from the Hufflepuff table) in the Great Hall any longer, Acantha stood up and shouldered her bag, sighing. She had half an hour until her Transfiguration class but she knew it was useless. Acantha could no less transfigure a match into a needle than change a chicken into a peacock.  
  
_What's the use of transfiguring animals to other animals anyway?_  
  
When she entered the library it was rather empty aside from the two famous residents: Madam Pince and Hermione Granger. Acantha heard a lot about Hermione Granger from Cho Chang's rantings last year and her famous wit. It surprised Acantha that Granger was not sorted into Ravenclaw after all the stories about her being the cleverest witch of her age.  
  
Acantha sat down in a tiny table made for one and took out her textbooks to start her History of Magic essay.  
  
Suddenly, two boys burst in, scrambled up to the desk of Granger's, and spoke in low voices. They were both pale and shaky but she didn't blame them. Acantha was close enough to hear them speaking and listened intently. She continued her essay to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping.  
  
"Hermione, we need to talk to you."  
  
"Look, I need to do some research first -"  
  
The boy with untidy black hair, obviously Harry Potter, ignored Hermione Granger.  
  
"Five people lost their souls. _Five_. Hermione, didn't you say something about Roseletten earlier? Why they might attack Roseletten?"  
  
"I did! That's why I'm doing some -" Granger was interrupted.  
  
"Hermione, if you would give us just a second to talk -" began the red haired boy.  
  
"Funny, you're not letting me -" snapped Granger.  
  
"- Shut up you two! Ron, what were you about to say?" asked Potter.  
  
"Roseletten's a really famous Wizarding village hidden by Muggles, somewhere off in Sweden. Dad visited there once for the Ministry and said it was a really cheerful place."  
  
"It's a typical feast for Dementors," said Potter bitterly.  
  
"But why Roseletten? Why not Hogsmeade?" asked Granger. "It makes more sense logically, if Voldemort -" Acantha winced and so did the Weasley boy. "- oh, stop that Ron, - attacked it instead."  
  
"Dumbledore's protecting it," said Potter. "That's why he's not attacking it."  
  
"He might have just wanted to create chaos," said the red-haired boy darkly.  
  
"But why Dementors? Sweden has a lot of mountains; it would be perfect for Giants to come and attack," said Granger. "And he wouldn't be suspected as easily because they could say Giants finally snapped and went because they were starving."  
  
"I don't know. It doesn't seem right though," said Potter. "Something doesn't fit. Why Dementors? And why Roseletten?"  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Hermione. "We need to hurry, we're going to be late for class!"  
  
Acantha was startled and immediately started packing her things. Luckily, neither of the three people noticed her as she ran off to Transfiguration.  
  
She was relieved to find that she wasn't late because the class was still filling in and took a seat. It was interesting, the conversation she overheard from Harry Potter and his friends. Maybe they knew things about You-Know-Who... Important things. Harry Potter did seem to get into the middle of things every year... Was the attack on Roseletten done by You- Know-Who? Acantha shivered. Five people lost their souls...  
  
"Now that everyone is present, take your notes out from the last class and study them for ten minutes. Then you will perform the spell to turn a chicken into a peacock."  
  
Ten minutes later, Acantha found herself struggling to make any difference in her chicken. It ruffled its feathers and looked at her with beady eyes.  
  
"I know I'm going to fail this class next," muttered Acantha.  
  
She sighed. Professor McGonagall did not give points in effort. Still, she tried for the fifth time.  
  
"Miss Adlem?"  
  
Her head snapped up to see Professor McGonagall gazing at her.  
  
"Oh, er..." said Acantha nervously. She raised her wand and chanted the spell. As usual, the wand gave a few blue sparks.  
  
"Professor Flitwick has told you about next week's meeting with Professor Dumbledore?" inquired Professor McGonagall crisply.  
  
"Yes," answered Acantha.  
  
"Good. Professor Flitwick will find you before dinner and guide you to Dumbledore's office. His password is Fudge Flies," said Professor McGonagall. Acantha knew her Professor's gaze was at her wand. "Please do not worry yourself. Professor Flitwick has informed me that you will take O.W.L.s, with the exception of Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."  
  
"I'm failing those too?" said Acantha, her eyes widening. She was horrified.  
  
Professor McGonagall gave her a look of pity.  
  
"All of that will be discussed with Professor Dumbledore next week," said Professor McGonagall. She moved over to the next person, who had peacock feathers sticking out of the chicken everywhere.  
  
She was failing three classes. All of them required wand work, which seemed impossible for Acantha's wand.  
  
_Maybe I need a new wand._  
  
But inside, she knew that a new wand wouldn't change anything.

* * *

After lunch, Acantha felt the whole school was making up conspiracies on the Dementors. Groups could be seen in corridors, discussing wild, seemingly impossible stories. Every time she passed them, she felt their whispers becoming as aggravating as nails down a chalkboard and wished she had been chosen as a prefect to shut them up.  
  
"- I heard one of the Aurors lost it after a while with the Dementors and decided to leave the Dementors alone to terrorize-"  
  
"- Fudge wanted the Dementors to cause all this and blame it on Dumbledore again!"  
  
"- some experiment to test whether or not Dementors affected lilyweed-"  
  
"Oh for heaven's sake," Acantha muttered as she walked to her Potions class. _An experiment to test Dementor effects on lilyweed? They made everything wilt in their path, so what would be the point in testing lilyweed? Lilyweed was obviously nowhere near Sweden._  
  
Potions was one of the classes she actually didn't loathe, despite Professor Snape's cold comments. He was one of the most despised teachers in the school and made sure the reputation was kept but he rarely made her feel as miserable as she did today in Transfiguration. She wasn't half as frustrated in Potions. She took an empty seat beside her cauldron, taking out her notes from last week. Acantha knew they were beginning Confusing Draughts today.  
  
Professor Snape barked for quiet and looked at them with equal disgust.  
  
"We will be starting on our Confusing Draughts, as you know," said Professor Snape. "and since this potion is potentially harmful if a single mistake is made..." His lips curled into a smirk, "... you will be entirely responsible." With a wave of his wand, instructions were on the blackboard.  
  
Many of the students either looked warily at each other or had a terrified expression on their face. Acantha wasn't worried. Potions was rather easy. Who couldn't add simple ingredients, such as powdered redroot and legs of spiders?  
  
Soon thick fumes rose but Acantha's mind had traveled back to her bitterness on failing.  
  
_I failed. I'll have to face Mum and Dad now. God, I can imagine it. They wouldn't care if I was excellent in Potions. They consider failure an absolute nightmare_.  
  
Which it is, she reminded herself.  
  
"Idiot girl! Did you not realize to dice the lutworms unevenly?" Professor Snape sneered.  
  
Acantha was stirring her potion, looking absent-minded.  
  
_I wonder who head Snape's biting off this time. Oh well, at least I can make a proper Confusing Draught._  
  
"Miss Adlem, look at me when I am speaking to you," said Professor Snape coldly.  
  
She snapped back to reality with a start. Her stomach suddenly filled with fear as she looked down at her potion. Instead of producing gray-blue fumes, it was making a disgusting shade of orange. Horrified at her mistake, she dropped her ladle. It fell on the rim of the cauldron with a hiss.  
  
"Just because you consider yourself better than others because of your House does not mean you do not require concentration, Miss Adlem," he said nastily. He walked away to examine Josephine Finn's cauldron.  
  
Professor Snape had the impression that almost all of the Ravenclaws thought they were superior above others. She supposed they were; after all, Ravenclaw was the cleverest House.  
  
"I- I -" stuttered Acantha. She picked up her ladle and looked at her potion in despair.  
  
Not only was she failing three subjects, but Acantha was confident that she had just received a very low score in Potions.  
  
Her potion hissed, turning a shade of dark gray. Acantha checked her book and realized her potion should have been dark blue and perfectly calm. The fumes overwhelmed her as the mixture bubbled dangerously. Her vision blurred and she could feel herself swaying. The potion was spilling onto the floor... she could feel her shoes burning... She needed to clean up...  
  
"Foolish girl. _Evanesco_!"  
  
The fumes had vanished but her vision was worsening. Instead of becoming sharper and focused, it blurred so badly that anything she saw was a mist of colors.  
  
"Sanners! Assist her to the Hospital Wing. Ten points from Ravenclaw."  
  
She heard muttering from the other Ravenclaws and felt herself redden. Cecilia Sanners was putting an arm over her shoulder and helped walk her out of the Potions class, carrying Acantha's bag with her.  
  
It was beginning to feel like the whole world turned against her.  
  
"Are you okay? You're squinting a lot," said Cecilia worriedly.  
  
"I'm fine!" Acantha snapped. "My vision's just off, that's all."  
  
After a moment, Cecilia spoke.  
  
"You know, Snape's right. You ought to pay more attention in class-"  
  
"Oh, you think I'm a stuck up, egocentric idiot, do you?" Acantha felt herself grow hot. Was everyone agreeing that she was a stupid student? She wasn't going to have it from her peers as well.  
  
"Well, you are a bit full of yourself when it comes to Potions-"  
  
"I am not!" shrieked Acantha. I don't care what you think! I KNOW I'm a failure! "You don't know anything about me so leave me alone!" She yanked off her arm from Cecilia and swayed before regaining her balance.  
  
"Fine," said Cecilia coolly. "You can go to Madam Pomfrey by yourself. You lost us ten points by the way." She heard a dull thunk and saw a mass of tan. She groped for the strap of her bag and lifted it up from the floor.  
  
"I know that," Acantha said through gritted teeth. She squinted even further but the walls had melted themselves together. Acantha took a few steps before she realized she didn't know where she was.  
  
"Miss Adlem!"  
  
Acantha turned to the source of the voice, squinting so much that her eyes were a millimeter apart from being shut.  
  
"What are you doing in the middle of the corridors?"  
  
"Going to Madam Pomfrey. I lost my way and I think I'm going blind," said Acantha through gritted teeth. Never did she try to lose her temper at adults. Her parents raised her to be better than that.  
  
"Then let me help you," said the teacher.  
  
Whoever it was grabbed her arm and lead her to the Hospital Wing. Thankfully her vision was only fading when they reached Madam Pomfrey. She heard her tutting but didn't care. All Acantha wanted was her vision back.  
  
"Name?" asked Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Acantha Adlem," she mumbled.  
  
"Apparently something happened to make her lose her vision," the teacher explained. "I'm not sure what. I saw her squinting in the corridors and swaying a bit."  
  
"Hmm. Do you know what caused this, Miss Adlem?"  
  
"My potion," said Acantha very quietly. "It went wrong. We were doing Confusing Draughts and-"  
  
"Say no more. I've had more students for that potion than anything else. I've been insisting Professor Snape emphasize on cutting those lutworms properly," said Madam Pomfrey, her tone irritated and exasperated.  
  
The teacher and Madam Pomfrey walked away as Acantha sat on a bed. She wondered if she was cursed somehow. It seemed today was filled with bad news.  
  
She heard footsteps and Madam Pomfrey helped her drink a potion that was supposed to undo any side effects in Draught potions. It had a runny texture and tasted a bit like dried raisins. Her vision was fading in and out until finally, it cleared into her normal sharp focus.  
  
"You can either go back to class or back to your House but I suggest reading instructions more carefully from now on!" said Madam Pomfrey. She shooed Acantha away and worked on her next patient, who just walked in with sprouts on his face.  
  
Acantha dropped her bag down by her bed and crawled into it, shutting the drapes. After a few minutes of shutting her eyes and wishing it would all go away, she sighed.  
  
She heard footsteps approaching her dormitory.  
  
"Harlan Cohen asked you out on a date? I thought you guys wanted to be 'just friends'." Acantha knew from experience that this was Josephine Finn.  
  
"Well... I don't know... it's just an experiment..." murmured Cecilia.  
  
Not willing to listen to her fellow peers discuss sappy drivel, she shouted, "Who cares about Cohen?"  
  
"Shut up Adlem," said Josephine icily.  
  
"Why don't you? You never shut up."  
  
"And you'd wonder why she doesn't have any friends," said Josephine sarcastically. Acantha wanted to do something to retaliate but Josephine continued.  
  
"I heard she's failing all her classes. Is that true Adlem? Are you so stupid that you're Muggle?"  
  
"Is that the best you got?" asked Acantha venomously.  
  
"At least I can do magic. And Dumbledore's going to send her packing next week!" said Josephine. She sounded delighted.  
  
For the first time that day, she felt apprehensive. Was it true? Was Dumbledore going to expel her from school? Snap her useless wand in half and tell her parents-  
  
Acantha cursed under her breath. Her parents. They would be furious; beyond angry, especially if they already received an owl about her failure in three classes.  
  
If there was one thing her parents taught her, it was that failure was the worst thing in the world. What would they think of her?  
  
Acantha's stomach churned. They would be disappointed in her. They would think she wasn't good enough-  
  
_It's not like it's not true._  
  
She felt ill as she clutched her stomach, forcing her face deep into her pillow. She would not panic, she would not panic...  
  
_Keep calm... If Headmaster Dumbledore expels you - _...  
  
Realization hit her. Without O.W.L.s, how would she live in the Wizarding World? Would she be banned? What would her parents say? Twisted thoughts ran through her mind, all crazy and insane, but the fear edged her on continually.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Edith. She was the Ravenclaw Prefect and was usually fair to everyone.  
  
Acantha furiously pressed her face into her pillow deeper. It didn't matter that she was suffocating. She would not cry. No, she wasn't going to be expelled. Everything will be fine.  
  
_Yeah, right!_  
  
She heard the drapes open.  
  
"Acantha? Is something wrong?" asked Edith in her calm voice.  
  
"Nothing's wrong," came the muffled reply.  
  
"I think she's crying," piped Luna.  
  
She wondered if everyone was there in the dormitory. Not wanting any attention, she tried to close the drapes desperately. How dare they enter her business? Especially when she was so terrified.  
  
_I won't admit it to them, I won't! _  
  
"Acantha, what's wrong?" asked Edith again, clutching on the hangings firmly.  
  
"Ask them!" snarled Acantha. It surprised her how fiercely she said it, but it didn't matter. Satisfaction appeared as Cecilia and Josephine stared at her, taken aback. She pushed her face off her pillow and pointed at Josephine and Cecilia.  
  
Cecilia was looking uncomfortable and kept glancing at Josephine, who was blinking. Realizing her face was blotchy she wiped it jerkily.  
  
"What happened?" Edith turned to the two girls.  
  
"Well, Adlem made a rude comment about Harlan-" began Josephine.  
  
"Do we really need to hear their love life rubbish?" questioned Acantha. Edith gave her a look and let Josephine go on.  
  
_Keep going. They hate you anyway..._  
  
"-and we sort of bounced back comments," she said truthfully. "Adlem is always rude anyway. She isn't very considerate of other people. We were just throwing back what she deserves-"  
  
"That's no excuse for fighting," Edith said simply, strongly reminding them all of a teacher. "Three points from Ravenclaw."  
  
Acantha snorted and pushed her drapes back closed.  
  
"Why are you taking points from us?" yelped Cecilia. "She started it! And I didn't even say anything to her!"  
  
"Look, you guys were just giving her more ammunition. And stop calling her by her surname. That's annoying," said Edith. "Why aren't any of you in the Great Hall?" she added warily.  
  
"We were trying to discuss our lives in private when someone-" Josephine was cut off.  
  
"Private? This is the girls dormitory," Acantha said from her bed.  
  
"So? We didn't realize you were in there. You always shut your hangings whether or not you're there," Cecilia said. She folded her arms across her chest.  
  
"It doesn't matter. You should all be in the Great Hall," said Edith.  
  
"I was getting my _Quibbler _magazine," explained Luna.  
  
Edith jumped slightly. She had forgotten Luna was there. However, Luna looked at them mildly, her eyes unblinking.  
  
"Oh, right," Edith said. "Well, you should get down to the Great Hall now."  
  
When she thought everyone had left, she opened her drapes and saw Luna reading her _The Quibbler _upside down.  
  
"What are you doing?" Acantha asked, perplexed.  
  
Luna pointed to the page she was looking at. Acantha saw Rune signs.  
  
"Oh really? Can I have a look at it?" Acantha's interest sparked. Even if she slipped up sometimes in all her other classes, she felt Ancient Runes was something she could always be good at. It was one of her only interests.  
  
Luna handed her _The Quibbler _and Acantha scanned it. She frowned.  
  
"What's this? It doesn't look like any of the runes Professor Schulman gives us."  
  
"You're supposed to turn it upside down. You'll find spells that way."  
  
"Oh. Nevermind then."  
  
She glanced at a small box that printed: DEMENTORS IN DISGUISE? Curious, she flipped to the page cited and her face fell. It had a rather cartoonish picture of a skeleton-like Dementor with its hood off. It had an unrecognizable character's head. After reading it, she realized it was only about petty politicians disguising themselves as Dementors to scare Fudge and his heliopaths (Acantha wasn't sure what heliopaths were but she didn't want to know). Acantha threw _The Quibbler _back at Luna, who caught it nimbly, and glanced at the clock.  
  
Acantha decided she might as well skip dinner again.

* * *

_A/N: _I accept constructive criticism because it helps me as an author. If you notice certain things that you like or dislike about the story, feel free to point them out. I hope you enjoyed it. =)  
  
_Edited: _Some things I noticed needed to be edited. Don't worry, they were just little bits. By the way, it's not Josephine Lewis anymore, it's Josephine Finn. 


End file.
